


running you with red

by waveydnp



Series: phan bingo 2018 [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical hurt/comfort, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-07-17 11:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: dan and phil are a&e nurses





	1. part I

The sound of lockers slamming shut digs into his brain, fuzzy and aching though his shift hasn’t even begun yet. He’s sat on the bench, one foot pulled up to rest the heel on the cold metal while he ties the laces of his trainer. All the girls he works with swear by their crocs, but he has standards. He has an aesthetic he’s not ready to give up on just yet. Not yet.

His trainers are black. Easier to hide the bloodstains that way.

Someone puts their hand on his shoulder. “Ready, buddy?”

He turns his head to look. It’s the new girl. He can’t even remember her name. She’s young and fresh-faced, not beaten down yet by the special kind of soul crushing hell that is the overnight shift. 

He smiles politely and says, “As I’ll ever be,” hauling himself up and fishing his stethoscope out of his locker.

He checks his watch as he follows her out of the changeroom; it’s nearly seven. He’s already late for shift change and he has no excuse, besides maybe not having had any coffee yet tonight. 

The charge nurse has a pot of tea waiting in the lounge. Dan drinks it black while she gives the night shift the glorious news that it’s been a rather slow day and chances are good the night will go the same way. The tea won’t be enough to clear the static from his head but it’s better than nothing, and the prospect of a quiet night already has him feeling better. He’ll go to the caf on his first break; they have a machine with decent espresso. 

Five hours into his shift he finally gets that break; the charge nurse is a liar and he’s been working nonstop since he stepped foot onto the floor of A&E, but at least so far he hasn’t gotten anyone else’s bodily fluids on his scrubs. He gets coffee from the machine and takes it outside. He doesn’t like to breathe hospital air a second longer than he needs to.

It’s a rainy night, the drops coming down in a misty drizzle, blurring the yellow glow of the lamps and the headlights of ambulances and passing cars. It looks pretty, Dan thinks as a little shiver runs through him and he clutches his cup for warmth. It looks like an oil painting of Manchester at night. 

The air smells like grass and cigarette smoke; someone on the bench a little ways down from him is lighting one up. Dan doesn’t partake but he’s always enjoyed the second hand scent of it. It feels like rebelling without having to rebel. He’s been an adult for ten years but some impulses are hard to shake. 

It’s calm outside the hospital in the middle of the night, a perfect antidote to the craziness on the other side of those sliding glass doors. He breathes that smoky green air in and takes a sip of coffee. His breaks always go by too fast. 

He’s waiting for a reply to the text he’d sent ten minutes ago and is keenly aware that there hasn’t been a single buzz against his leg this whole time. It’s odd, but he’s not going to worry. It’s midnight after all, maybe the bloke had actually gone to sleep at a decent hour for once.

The reply never comes and Dan throws out his empty cup before reluctantly heading back to work.

Once at the nurse’s station he grabs the chart of the next patient in queue for an exam room before walking out into the waiting room, a place of true misery with unpleasant smells and crying children and hacking and wheezing and quiet groaning and all manner of horrors to which Dan has grown entirely too accustomed in his years as a faithful servant of the NHS. 

He calls out the name of the patient without looking up from their chart, his voice sounding flat and perfunctory even in his own ears. When he does look up though, he gets a right shock. His stomach flips when he sees black hair matted with blood and a large pale hand pressing against stained red gauze. 

He has to compartmentalize, just for a moment. He’s already called out for Henry Whatever-His-Name-Is. He gives his patient a strained smile and points him in the direction of the exam room he belongs in. He shoots a panicked look at the familiar and banged up face sitting in the corner, just to make sure he’d actually seen right, before half jogging back over to the nurse’s station. 

He finds the first person wearing scrubs he can see who doesn’t look busy. It’s the new girl, the nice one. Dan suddenly remembers her name is Keely and she’s straight out of nursing school and probably wouldn’t say no to a seasoned veteran like Dan even if she were on fire. 

“Can you take the guy in bed seven?” Dan asks. 

“Of course,” she says brightly. “That his chart?”

Dan hands it to her. “Thanks, I owe you.”

“Everything ok?” she asks.

“I’m… not sure. Phil’s in the waiting room with blood on his head.”

She looks confused. “Phil… like _Phil_ Phil? The guy I shadowed when I first started?”

Dan nods.

“Is he alright?” she asks.

“That’s what I need to go find out,” Dan says, gritting his teeth against the urge to tell her to fuck off with the questions. 

“You lot are mates aren’t you? Flatmates?”

Mates. Right. 

“Yeah,” Dan says. “I’m gonna go see what the hell he’s done to himself.”

“Oh right, yeah yeah, go,” she says, finally seeming to notice how impatient Dan is. “Sorry.”

“Thanks,” Dan says again.

“Lemme know later, how he is and everything, yeah?” she asks.

“Sure,” Dan says, already halfway to the swinging doors that lead to the A&E waiting room.

He notices most of the patients look up, hopeful, when they see him walk through those doors, as they always do, hopeful he’s going to call their name this time and finally put their long hours of waiting to be seen by a doctor to an end. 

He doesn’t call any name though, he just walks over to Phil and kneels down to get a good look at his face.

Phil’s grinning, the fucking wanker, even as Dan notices dried blood beneath his fingernails and streaks of it on his t-shirt. “What the fuck, Phil?” he whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Why didn’t you come find me? Or text me?”

“You gonna stitch me up, doc?” He sounds drunk.

So Dan asks, “Are you drunk?” 

“Don’t think so,” Phil mumbles. Kind of slurs, actually. “Can’t remember.” 

“How’d you get here?”

“Mm, took a taxi? I think. I dunno Danny, I can’t remember.”

Normally Dan feels warm inside when Phil calls him Danny. Right now it couldn’t be more distressing. “K c’mon,” Dan says sternly. “Up.” He stands and holds out a hand for Phil to take. 

Phil takes it. His hand is cold and clammy. Dan pulls him up and he wobbles so much that Dan immediately sits him back down again. 

“How long have you been here?” Dan asks.

Phil’s eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the wall.

“Phil,” Dan says, a hint of panic colouring the urgency in his voice. He gives Phil’s shoulder a firm but gentle shake.

Phil’s eyes pop open. “Huh?”

“How long have you just been sat here bleeding?”

“Uhhh…” He trails off and then seems to forget he’d even been asked a question, his gaze drifting, looking around the room at all the other people waiting. When his eyes finally make contact with Dan’s again he says, “What?” His pupils are fucking massive.

Dan feels a little queasy. “Wait here, ok? Don’t move.” He says that part with authority. “Getting a wheelchair. _Don’t_ go anywhere.”

“Ok,” Phil murmurs and leans his head back against the wall again.

It feels wrong to walk away from him in that state but Dan needs to find him a chair and get him to an exam room as soon as possible. 

“He ok?” Keely asks when she seems him hurrying by. She’s already back at the nurse’s station. 

“Uh, not really. Can you page someone from neuro for me? Are there any beds free?”

She looks down at the chart in her hand. “Technically there is. I was about to…” She holds the chart up and nods her head in the direction of the waiting room. 

She’s new, Dan reminds himself. She still thinks the rules are unbreakable.

He’s certainly not above begging though, not when Phil’s bleeding and either drunk or high, or more likely, concussed and desperately in need of stitches. 

He looks at her pleadingly. “He doesn’t even remember how he got here.”

“Shit,” she mutters, looking down at the chart again. “Bed ten.”

“Thanks. Owe you again.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t. I just hope he’s alright. Page me if you need me, yeah?”

He could kiss her. He ends up kind of squeezing her shoulder, probably too hard but she gives him a smile and he vows in that moment to be a better co-worker to her from now on. Maybe even a friend.

He grabs a rogue wheelchair from the hallway. It shouldn’t be there but right now he’s glad it is. He practically flies it to the waiting room where Phil is still sat with his head tipped back, his mouth hanging open as quiet snores escape. 

The gauze on his forehead had been hastily taped there and not thick enough to soak up the blood oozing from whatever wound is underneath it. Dan wants to rip the thing off right here and see what Phil’s done to himself, but he really can’t in front of a roomful of sick patients so he grips Phil’s shoulder firmly and says, “Phil.”

Phil doesn’t wake up, and it takes a few more increasingly insistent urges from Dan before he finally does. He opens his eyes, frowning. “Dan?”

“Hey,” Dan breathes. It’s a jarring feeling to be relieved and still intensely worried at the same time. 

“Thought you were working tonight.”

Dan’s stomach sinks a little further. “I am, babe. We’re in hospital. You’re at A&E.”

Phil sits up to look around, then winces and touches his hand to his forehead. “Ow. What…”

“You don’t remember what happened?” Dan asks.

Phil looks at his pink-tinged fingers in confusion. “I’m bleeding.” 

“Yeah. Can you get in the chair for me please so I can check you out properly.” 

This time he’s able to stand without too much wobbling, but Dan still guides him into the chair. “Ok?” Dan asks.

“I feel really ill,” Phil says weakly. “I might sick.”

“That’s ok,” Dan says, risking a stroke of his finger through the little ginger baby hairs on the back of Phil’s neck. He doesn’t even warn Phil to aim away from his shoes. Worrying about Phil has the dramatic side effect of completely erasing Dan’s sense of humour.

“What’s wrong with me?” Phil murmurs.

Dan’s already wheeling Phil into the exam room. “I think you probably have a concussion. And who knows how much blood you’ve lost.”

“Oh.”

“Can you get up on the bed?” Dan asks, shutting the door behind them.

Phil doesn’t move from the chair. “I have a concussion?” he asks, his voice slowed down, his words kind of sticking together. 

“I don’t know yet for sure, Phil. Get up on the bed ok? I already paged neuro but I need to look at whatever’s bleeding on your face.”

“I don’t want stitches,” Phil blurts.

“Get. On. The. Bed.”

Phil holds out his hands for Dan to pull him up and eventually, working together, they manage to get him sat up on the paper-lined exam bed.

“Don’t put a needle in my face,” Phil says solemnly, sounding more lucid than he has all night. “I hate needles.”

“How have you managed to keep your job this long?” Dan says absentmindedly as he pulls on a pair of gloves.

“I don’t mind sticking other people,” Phil says. “Just don’t like being stuck.”

Dan smirks but refrains from making any tired jokes. He’s just really not in the mood for joking, not when Phil’s face is all bloody. He leans over that pale face and peels the tape and gauze from Phil’s skin. 

Years of seeing some of the worst things that can happen to human bodies have steeled him against the unnatural sight of bone and flesh and blood and the like, but it feels a little different when it’s Phil’s flesh. Phil’s blood. 

Luckily there’s no bone, and Dan manages to keep it together, but only just. It’s a deep gash with jagged edges, and behind the smears of blood both wet and dry Dan can see a raised bruise forming. Phil must have fallen - or been hit - hard.

“How bad’s’it?” Phil slurs.

“It’s fine,” Dan says diplomatically. Phil doesn’t need to know how it turns Dan’s stomach to see him this way. “You’ll definitely need stitches though.”

Phil pouts. “Can’t you use glue?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “We’ll see. I need to clean it first anyway.”

“I don’t want a giant scar on my face.”

Dan risks leaving Phil sat on the bed to go to the cupboard above the sink for the supplies he needs to clean the wound. “You worried people won’t think you’re pretty anymore?”

“Shut up,” Phil mutters. “My brain hurts.”

“That’s what a concussion is, Phil.”

“You said you weren’t sure I had one,” Phil counters.

“Well, I am. I’m just not supposed to say that. But you do.” Dan’s actually starting to breathe a little easier. Phil sounds a lot more like someone who knows who and where he is. 

“Lie down,” Dan says. “This is gonna hurt.”

Phil groans as he lies back. “Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner sucks?”

“People love me,” Dan counters. He starts in on the cleaning and Phil hisses. 

“That hurts,” he says.

“I told you,” Dan replies, his voice gone soft. He dabs at the gash and Phil winces but doesn’t say any more. His eyes are screwed shut and Dan suddenly has the overwhelming urge to protect him from everything in life that would do him harm.

“What’d you do to yourself?” Dan whispers. 

“I dunno. Reckon I tripped and fell or something.”

“How many times do I have to ask you to be more careful with yourself before you start listening?”

Phil smiles. “Always at least one more.”

“Don’t joke,” Dan says. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Dan shakes his head, fond and disapproving all at once, not an uncommon dichotomy of emotions when it comes to his reactions to Phil. He cleans away the last of the blood and pats the wound dry. “Alright listen. I’ll use glue, but if it splits back open tomorrow you’ll have to let me stitch you, deal?”

“Thank you,” Phil says, his voice surprisingly sincere. 

Dan walks back over to the cupboard for the glue and a new pair of gloves. “There’s still gonna be a scar.”

“I know,” Phil says quietly. “You’ll still think I’m pretty, right?”

“Maybe even more so.” He peels off his bloody gloves and replaces them with fresh ones before returning to Phil’s bedside.

Phil’s eyes are still closed, his hands clasped together over his stomach. The blood on his shirt is jarring and Dan wishes so badly they were home and he could just take it off. Really he wants to give Phil some drugs and crawl into bed with him, hold him tight and sleep away this disaster of a night. 

“Oh yeah,” Phil murmurs. “I forgot you like weird stuff. Lucky for me I guess.”

“Scars and bruises aren’t weird and neither are you, so shut up,” Dan says. “Don’t move or I’ll glue my glove to your face.”

“Mm,” Phil hums a sleepy sound. “I trust you. You take care of me.”

“Phil don’t fall asleep yet. The doctor still needs to check you out.”

Phil scrunches up his face. “Don’t wanna. Wanna go home with you. Wanna touch your bum.”

Dan laughs as he squeezes glue into Phil’s wound and says, “Shh, can’t say that stuff at work. Doctor could come in any second.”

“Pfft, nah. You know I’ll probably be waiting for hours. You could just let me go home.”

“Stop moving,” Dan admonishes gently. “You’re getting glue everywhere.”

“It washes off.”

“You can’t get this wet for at least a day.”

Phil actually cracks an eye open then. “I _know_ that, mate. I work here too.”

“Yeah but your brain is mushy right now,” Dan counters. “Don’t _move _Phil, I’m literally gluing your head back together.”__

__“I wanna go home,” Phil says again._ _

__“How would you get there?” Dan asks. He’s not considering it, not in the slightest. He’d never take a risk like that, he just wants Phil to see how utterly ridiculous he’s being._ _

__“You can take me,” Phil says. “You drove here, yeah?”_ _

__“I’m working, Phil,” Dan says softly. “And I need to know your head is ok. I want to take you home too, but not until I know you’re ok.”_ _

__“I’ll be ok.”_ _

__“You need to be more careful.”_ _

__“I know,” Phil says, reaching up and pushing his hand flat against the top of Dan’s. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__“My glove is fully glued to your face now, dummy.”_ _

__“Oops. Just wanted to touch you.”_ _

__Dan chuckles. He hates that Phil is injured, but a happy side effect is his complete lack of filter. It’s endearing in a way that’s painful, and it’s getting increasingly hard for Dan to remain any kind of professional. He just wants to lean down and kiss his man, thank the stars for keeping him safe despite his constant superhuman clumsiness and lack of regard for all the sharp corners of life._ _

__“Are you almost done?” Phil asks with a slight whine._ _

__“Yeah. Just hold still another minute while it sets.”_ _

__“Can I go home?” Phil asks._ _

__Dan frowns. “How many times do you need to hear me say no?” He’s not cross; now he’s slightly worried._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Do you not remember asking me that already?” Dan asks._ _

__“Asking what?” Phil’s skin is as pale as Dan’s ever seen it and then some, in fact it looks a light shade of green._ _

__Dan waits another few moments to make sure the glue has set and then he pulls his hand out of the glove, which stays stuck to Phil’s forehead. It would be funny if Dan weren’t feeling so suddenly nauseous and worried. He pulls on it slowly but firmly, ignoring Phil’s protesting grunts._ _

__He throws it in the garbage once it’s off and goes to wash his hands. He grabs a fresh piece of gauze and some tape and returns to Phil’s side to cover up the mess of glue and the angry red line on his skin._ _

__“If I leave for a few minutes will you promise not to go anywhere?”_ _

__“Why d’you have to leave?” Phil asks._ _

__“Need to find that fucking doctor.”_ _

__Phil props himself up on his elbows. “Are you cross?”_ _

__“No, Phil.” He forces his voice to soften. “Lie down please. I don’t want you to fall.”_ _

__“Why would I fall?”_ _

__“You have a concussion babe,” Dan says._ _

__“Oh yeah. That’s why it hurts so bad.”_ _

__Dan nods. “I’m gonna go find whoever’s working in neuro, ok? Will you please just stay lying down?”_ _

__“Can I sleep?” Phil asks. “I’m really tired.”_ _

__“You can sleep. Just promise you won’t fall.” Dan nudges Phil’s side so he moves closer to where the bed is pushed against the wall._ _

__“I won’t fall, Dan. I’m not a child.”_ _

__“Right now you might as well be. Just don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll ask Keely to check in on you when she can.”_ _

__“Who’s Keely?” Phil asks. “That your new girlfriend?”_ _

__“Yes. Exactly. My new girlfriend.”_ _

__Phil closes his eyes and smiles. “K. Can’t wait to meet her.”_ _

__“Phil, she shadowed you for like a month, please don’t tell me you don’t remember her,” Dan says, giving up on the banter._ _

__“Oh her?”_ _

__“Yeah, her.”_ _

__“She’s nice,” Phil says. “I’m crap at names.”_ _

__“I know. I forgot too. But she’s been really great tonight so please don’t say anything stupid to her, yeah?” His hand is in the doorknob._ _

__“I never say anything stupid,” Phil says._ _

__“Oh god,” Dan mutters. “I can’t leave you, can I?”_ _

__“No thank you. Never leave. Come get into bed with me and stay forever,” Phil murmurs._ _

__Dan smiles in spite of the tension knotting up his shoulders. “I’m at work. And the bed’s not big enough. And you are literally brain damaged.”_ _

__“I wanna go home,” Phil says._ _

__“I know. I’m working on it. Don’t move. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He opens the door and steps out of the room before Phil can beg him again to stay. He feels his resolve crumbling by the second, but the fear of brain bleeds and dead Phils clings to the doomsday part of his brain and he really needs to find that fucking neurologist._ _

__First he finds Keely. Before Dan can say anything, she asks, “How is he?”_ _

__“He’s got a nasty gash on his face but it’s all clean and glued up now. Definitely concussed. He keeps asking me to take him home but I really want neuro to check him out first. Any word from them?”_ _

__She shakes her head and gives him a sympathetic look. “Sorry. You know how doctors are.”_ _

__“Yeah,” he says darkly. “I know.”_ _

__“You lads are close, eh?” she murmurs._ _

__Dan’s stomach clenches. He’d let his guard down a little too much apparently. “I mean… we’re friends.”_ _

__She looks at him with a certain tilt of her head and something about her expression is knowing, but she just says, “Yeah.”_ _

__He looks down at his feet. He’s not sure what to say now because he’s pretty sure he’s just outed himself and that feels scary, but at the moment even more than that it feels like some weird kind of comfort and a part of him of just wants to tell her everything. He doesn’t even remember her last name._ _

__He’s so tired. He’s tired on a fucking cellular level._ _

__“So what’s the plan?” she asks quietly. She knows. There’s no way she doesn’t know._ _

__“I don’t know,” Dan murmurs, defeated. “I dunno what to do. I’m…” He trails off, looks up at her face and into her kind of shockingly green eyes. She has a million freckles and her eyebrows are red just like her hair and she doesn’t look tired like Dan feels. “I’m scared,” he chokes._ _

__“Oh,” she says. She steps in a little closer and puts her hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok. He’ll be ok. We fix up people who look worse every day, don’t we?”_ _

__He nods._ _

__“And then we send them home and they’re just fine, yeah?”_ _

__Dan shrugs. He knows in the logical part of his brain that she’s right but the part that’s scared he’s going to lose everything tonight is a lot louder._ _

__“What can I do?” she asks softly._ _

__Dan scrubs his hands down over his face. He can’t cry at work. He just really can’t do that. “I just… I need neuro,” he says pathetically. “I need to know everything’s ok in that big alien-shaped skull of his.”_ _

__She smiles. His stomach clenches more. If there’d been any plausible deniability left it’s all gone now, surely. She squeezes her hand on his shoulder. “Want me to page again? I could call it an emergency.”_ _

__Dan bites his lip. That’s fully against the rules; she’d definitely get in trouble and questions would be asked and he doesn’t want to use her like that, but it’s tempting. It’s really bloody tempting when he thinks of Phil’s face split open and the bruise underneath and the way he keeps asking Dan to take him home._ _

__He shakes his head. “No emergency, but yes please if you could page again.”_ _

__“Of course. You go be with him. I’ll cover for you.”_ _

__He gives her a look like he must be misunderstanding. It’s a busy night and A &E is already chronically understaffed as it is._ _

__“It’s fine,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s not all selflessness. The more patients I see the more I learn, right? The sooner people stop seeing me as the new girl, the better. And you’ll get me back next time I need it.”_ _

__“I will,” he promises. “I owe you big time.”_ _

__“Phil was nice to me,” she says. “He taught me a lot and didn’t make me feel like an idiot for asking daft questions. Everyone warned me about nurses eating their young but Phil isn’t like that and you aren’t either. This is my way of saying thank you. Plus no offense but you look like shit, mate.”_ _

__Dan laughs. “I feel like it, so that makes sense.”_ _

__“Go. I’ll come get you if I need you.”_ _

__“Deal,” Dan says. He has the urge to crush her into a hug but that’s probably unprofessional so he just says, “Thank you,” with the utmost sincerity before returning to exam room ten._ _

__Phil is asleep when Dan closes the door behind him, his big boat feet hanging off the end of the exam bed. He looks so peaceful like that with his head lolled to the side, his breathing slow and even. Dan wishes he was secure enough to just let him keep sleeping._ _

__But he’s not, so he walks over to the side of the bed and strokes his thumb against Phil’s cheek. Phil breathes out a little deeper but he doesn’t wake up._ _

__“Phil,” Dan says, brushing a piece of Phil’s blood-encrusted fringe back up off his forehead. Maybe when they’re home Dan can give him a bath and help him wash his hair without getting the wound wet and dissolving the glue. Maybe he’ll call in sick for them both tomorrow and not be bothered about any questions that might arise._ _

__Phil’s eyelids flutter._ _

__“You still with me?” Dan whispers._ _

__“Mhm,” Phil hums, reaching out and taking Dan’s hand in his without opening his eyes. “My head hurts.”_ _

__“I know. You can have drugs as soon as you’re all checked out.”_ _

__“I wanna go home. I miss our bed.”_ _

__“I know,” Dan says again. “I do too.”_ _

__Phil falls back to sleep still clutching Dan’s palm. Dan checks his watch. It’s half two. If he weren’t working he might not even be asleep yet, but he feels so tired he thinks he could be sick right here._ _

__He doesn’t want to let go of Phil’s hand, even knowing the doctor could theoretically walk through the door at any moment. It feels good to be connected, good to feel the soft and cool of Phil’s skin. It’s good to see the blue veins underneath the surface, to remind himself that blood still flows up to his heart and all through his body. His blood still flows and he’s still oxygenating that blood with every breath he takes._ _

__People fall and hit their heads all the time. People get concussions every day. It’s not the end of the world; the sun will still rise in about three hours and then they’ll go home, together. Phil will kick his shoes off against the wall and flop onto the bed still wearing his clothes. Dan will pull them off for him and they’ll sleep all day. When they wake up Dan will make coffee and give Phil a bath and order Indian takeaway and then they’ll go back to bed because Phil’s brain took a beating and it needs to rest and recover._ _

__Dan finds this comforting, planning out exactly what he’ll do when he’s free of this place. It keeps him from spiralling._ _

__He’s not sure how long it’s been before there’s a soft knock on the door and he’s pulling his hand from Phil’s grip. He hates the way it feels sour in his stomach to break that connection._ _

__Dan feels a small flood of relief when he sees Dr. Willis. She’s one of the nice ones._ _

__She looks confused to see a nurse stood right beside the patient’s bed. Before she can ask questions Dan says, “He’s my… mate. My flatmate. Figured I should know how often I need to check up on him and stuff.”_ _

__“He’s lucky today to be living with a nurse then, isn’t he?” she says, smiling. Dan’s not surprised she doesn’t seem to recognize either of them. There are a lot of nurses in this hospital._ _

__“He’s one too actually, he works here,” Dan says. “He’s also a clumsy oaf.”_ _

__“Oi,” Phil mutters weakly. “Am not.”_ _

__“I think your mate might be right, love. You look like you did a number on yourself. I’m Dr. Willis, by the way.”_ _

__“I know,” he croaks. “You’re one of the nice ones.”_ _

__Dan smirks as he reaches his hand for Phil’s to help him up. They’ve spent many a car ride home shit talking doctors and Willis has never been a name that’s come up._ _

__She chuckles. “Glad to hear it. So you’re…” she looks down at the chart in her hands, “Phil.”_ _

__“Yup. That’s Dan.”_ _

__“I’ll remember that from now on. My apologies,” she says, shaking both of their hands. “Now let’s check out your noggin.”_ _

__Dan stays in the room the whole time, stood off to the side, a misplaced feeling of inadequacy growing stronger in his chest the longer the exam takes. He doesn’t _want_ to be stood off to the side, he wants to be right next to Phil and holding his hand. He wants Dr. Willis to look at him when she talks about Phil’s prognosis. He wants to feel like he matters more than just a co-worker and flatmate. He wants to be seen for what he is: Phil’s family._ _

__Phil’s brain is fine, if not a little battered. No bleeds, no death imminent. He needs to stay in bed for a few days and try not to think too much. Dan feels relieved, but not as much as he should. There’s still a heaviness on his conscious as he wheels Phil out to the nurse’s station to find Keely._ _

__They have to wait there awhile because she’s doing the work of two nurses, and that’s a lot of fucking work. When she finally appears she smiles warmly and even squats down to Phil’s level to talk to him. She’s everything a nurse should be, Dan thinks. She’ll be running the whole department some day._ _

__Dan tells her he needs to go find the charge nurse and beg her to let him go early._ _

__“I already did,” Keely says. “It’s not a problem. She said neither of you should come back in until Phil’s better.”_ _

__Dan looks at her, properly stunned. “What?”_ _

__“I made your case very convincingly I guess.”_ _

__His stomach clenches in that particular way it’s been doing all night, that way it does when it feels like he’s been caught out. He doesn’t even know what to say. Is he grateful or terrified?_ _

__Somehow, she seems to understand exactly the clusterfuck of emotions wracking him. She stands up and leans into his space, her voice quiet enough that not even Phil can hear. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything like that. Just told her you lot were good friends and he needed someone to look after him.”_ _

__He forces a smile that surely looks more like a grimace. “Thanks.” So she really does know._ _

__She leans in even closer and this time she’s whispering. “If it were the other way round and my wife was in the waiting room with her face split open, I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.”_ _

__He looks down at her left hand instinctively. There’s no ring, but the shape of one is dented into her finger. He looks up at her face and she’s smiling and suddenly his chin is quivering._ _

__She puts her hand on his arm and says, “Go. We can talk someday if you want but for now just get Phil home, yeah?”_ _

__“Thanks,” he croaks and he knows it’s all he’ll be able to get out without bursting into tears._ _

__“Go,” she says a little louder, then turns to Phil. “Stay in bed, mate. Don’t get up until you’re better. You still have a lot to teach me.”_ _

__“Thanks Kee,” Phil says. He sounds a little bit drunk still, but at least he’d remembered her name. He starts to stand up from the chair and Dan tries to protest but Phil waves him off. “M’fine. C’mon, let’s go home.”_ _

__Dan ducks his head under Phil’s arm so it rests across his shoulders and Phil slumps to the side a little, allowing Dan to support him as they slowly make their way out to the carpark. They don’t talk, in fact they don’t say a single word, but Dan grips around Phil’s lower back tightly and doesn’t feel like he can breathe until he’s gotten Phil into the car and shut the door behind him._ _

__He needs to keep it together, at least for the car ride. He takes a deep shaky breath as he crosses over to the driver’s side and opens the door._ _

__For the second time tonight, Dan thanks a higher power he doesn’t actually believe in for the small mercy of Phil’s head already being slumped against the window, his eyes closed. Dan shuts the door and puts the key in the ignition and Phil says, “I love you.”_ _

__Dan swallows over the lump in his throat. “I love you too. Please don’t ever put me through this again.”_ _

__“I’m sorry.”_ _

__Dan reaches out and puts his hand on Phil’s thigh. He’s finally allowed to touch in a way a flatmate wouldn’t. “I know,” he whispers._ _

__He turns on the radio just for something to distract him from his own thoughts. Phil falls asleep quickly, leaving Dan to watch the rain fall onto the windscreen and the wipers push them away. It’s not a long drive, especially not this early in the morning. Usually Dan enjoys it. Tonight he wants nothing more than to tuck Phil up under the covers before retreating to the shower for a nice long cry._ _

__That’s exactly what he does. He pulls off Phil’s bloodstained shirt and his jeans and lies him down in bed. He gives him two paracetamols and makes sure he downs an entire glass of water before he lets him fall asleep properly. Then he strips off his scrubs and tosses them into the hamper with Phil’s stuff before heading to the bathroom._ _

__He sets the water just a little too hot. He always feels dirty after work, but tonight is something else entirely. He wants to scald this night off his skin. He doesn’t want to step out of this bathtub until every inch of him is scrubbed down to a fresh layer that hasn’t been touched by stress and panic and weirdness._ _

__The tears come hard and fast, and he’s glad for the knowledge that Phil will be dead to the world for hours and in no way witness to the way Dan’s losing himself in the sobs that wrack his chest. He can’t stop picturing things: Phil in the waiting room, clutching his bleeding head; Phil saying over and over ‘I want to go home;’ Keely’s head tilted with that knowing look._ _

__It’s all just too much for one tired mess of a man to handle. He lets himself feel it all until he’s got nothing left. He washes his hair and body almost as an afterthought and then turns the water off. It’s already starting to get cold, which means he must have been stood there in the steam for even longer than he’d been anticipating._ _

__He towels off and brushes his teeth before returning to the bedroom and pulling on the first pj bottoms he can find. The first rays of morning are lighting the clouds and the sounds of the rain are soft on the window as he crawls under the covers next to Phil, who’s still sleeping soundly, still lying in the exact same position he’d been in when Dan had left him._ _

__Dan fits himself against the curve of Phil’s back and wraps an arm low across his stomach. His hair is still wet and it’ll look a wild frizzy mess when he wakes up but he doesn’t much care. Phil likes it like that and they’re not going to be leaving this flat anytime soon. If they need food they’ll order for it. If the hospital calls they’ll let it go to voicemail._ _

__Dan’s still going to be a nurse, only for the next few days he’ll have but one patient. He nuzzles his nose into Phil’s hair and breathes it in. It smells like work, but it’s a smell that clings to Phil so often that Dan’s grown to associate with Phil anyway._ _

__Phil stirs, sliding his fingers into the space between Dan’s. He makes a quiet contented noise in the back of his throat and pulls Dan’s arm around him tighter._ _

__“Are you awake?” Dan asks softly._ _

__“Uh uh.”_ _

__“Can I ask you something?” It's not the time and he knows it, but there's a thought that's nestled into his brain and probably won't go away until he gives voice to it into Phil's listening ears._ _

__“No,” Phil murmurs. “M’sleeping. Head hurts.”_ _

__Dan kisses the back of Phil’s neck. “K, sorry. Sleep. We’ll talk later.”_ _

__“Mhm,” Phil hums, probably halfway back to sleeping already._ _

__“Goodnight,” Dan whispers._ _

__He doesn’t get an answer, but it’s ok. This thought will keep. He tucks his knees up behind Phil’s and lets the birds and the rain and the sound of Phil breathing soft and even carry him off to sleep._ _


	2. part II

Their alarm goes off at half four in the afternoon. When most people are counting down the minutes before they can be free for the evening, Dan and Phil are pressing snooze and snuggling down further into the covers and trying to pretend they don’t have to get up and shower and have breakfast and go back to a job that involves all too many bodily fluids and varying levels of human suffering on the daily.

Dan turns his own alarm off and then Phil’s when it goes off a few minutes later. He lifts his head to look out the window. It looks too dark for the hour and there are raindrops on the glass. Another rainy day, then. Another wet start to another goddamn night shift.

But at least they’re going in together. At least they get to wake up together and come home together. He lays his head back down and snuggles in closer to Phil to enjoy his last few minutes of warmth.

Phil groans his distaste for being disturbed, but he pulls Dan in nonetheless, nuzzling his face against Dan’s skin like a puppy. “S’not morning,” he mumbles into Dan’s collarbone. “Can’t be.”

“It’s not,” Dan says. “But it might as well be for us.”

“I’m too sleepy.”

Dan closes his eyes and lets himself fantasize about how outrageously good it would feel to just go back to sleep. “Yeah, me too. Thank god for coffee.” 

“Reckon I need something stronger.”

Dan chuckles sleepily. “What, Adderall?”

Phil shuts him up by pressing his palm to the front of Dan’s pants. “Was thinking more like naked Danny sexy times.”

“Ugh.”

Phil snorts. “Wow, thanks.”

“Oh shut up.” Dan rolls over so he’s facing away. “It’s not like that.” 

Phil’s arms wrap around him and pull him back and he sinks his teeth into Dan’s neck. “What’s it like, then?”

Dan reaches back to swat Phil away. “It’s like I’m tired as fuck and it’s gonna be a long night and you always make me do all the work.”

“I do not!”

Dan twists his head around. “So you weren’t gonna ask me to ride you?”

Phil tries and fails to contain his guilty smirk. “No.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought.” He tries to wriggle free of Phil’s grasp, but Phil just clings tighter, throwing his leg around the front of Dan’s thighs to lock him in place.

“What if I do the work?”

Dan laughs. “Mate. I fancy you and all, but you are seriously underestimating my laziness right now.”

Phil whines. “You’re mean.”

“Yup. Now lemme go, I need coffee. And you need a shower.”

Phil huffs as he lets Dan go. “What’s the point? I’m just gonna get sicked or bled on anyway.”

Dan sits up and looks down at Phil with fondness. “You’re like a child, you know that?”

“Your mum’s like a child.”

“I rest my case.”

Phil groans as he sits up as well. The duvet falls down around his waist and the view of his chest in all its pale glory is enough to have Dan momentarily reconsidering.

Until he remembers what happens after the fun part, the mess and the sore quads and the overwhelming desire to go back to sleep the moment they’re done. 

“If you’re nice to me tonight we’ll do it after,” Dan offers, reaching out to ruffle Phil’s inky black fringe.

Phil is so easy. He grins and sticks his tongue out a little. “I’m always nice to you.”

-

They sip strong coffee from travel mugs as Dan drives them to the hospital. The rain drizzles down indecisively, just enough so that everything is grey and wet. It would be peaceful if they were at home, reading on the sofa with the windows open and a nice scented candle burning. Not that they would be doing that if they were home of course, but it’s a nice daydream nonetheless.

As it is they’re on their way to work and the rain just means their socks are damp and traffic is a little worse.

“Why do we still live here?” Dan muses, watching the wipers clear the windscreen of droplets as he waits for the light to change. 

Phil’s forehead is resting against his window. He’s watching the rain too. “Because it’s home,” he says softly.

Dan reckons he hadn’t meant that to be profound or poetic, but it tugs at Dan’s chest in a nice way that stems the flow of whingeing he’d been building up to. 

It’s home. And all because Dan had chosen to go to school here, up north, somewhere far away from the place he called home before Phil quite literally came stumbling into his life. He’s a brilliant nurse but one of the clumsiest human beings Dan’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

Dan’s still not sure how Phil reconciles those two fundamental truths of his personality, but he does. Tripping over his own feet is a regular occurrence but he has an innate gift for taking care of people. Somehow he manages to be graceful in the moments he needs to be, as if mending the broken was a kind of inevitability. 

And he’s right of course, Manchester is home. Dan can’t actually imagine living anywhere else, not even somewhere that didn’t have more rainy days than sunny ones. Their whole story is contained in this city, many of them between the walls of the hospital they spend altogether too many hours toiling within. 

He doesn’t want to move away. But a holiday would be nice. 

-

Phil’s scrub shirt has Pokemon on. Dan takes the piss every chance he gets, but Phil is wholly unphased. He’s used to Dan disapproving of his less than sophisticated fashion choices.

“People love it, you know,” he says, as he laces his trainers haphazardly with fingers that shouldn’t be adept at stitching skin back together but somehow still are. “It’s a bright spot in an otherwise crap day. Or night.”

Dan rolls his eyes and bats Phil’s hand away so he can tie the laces himself. “Maybe they’re just laughing at you.”

Phil shrugs. “Whatever works.”

“I reckon you should’ve gone into pediatrics.”

Phil smiles and reaches down to tug on the end of a curl. “Then I wouldn’t be able to work with with my favourite Danny.”

Dan fights the instinct to look around and assess the damage. He reminds himself it’s not like that anymore. They don’t need to constantly have one eye open. He swallows down the nagging fear of exposure and looks up at Phil with a smiling. “True. You’d be tripping all over yourself without me here to tie your shoes.”

They haven’t come out. But they’re not trying quite so hard anymore to be _in_.

Dan stands up and grabs his stethoscope out of his locker, slinging it around the back of his neck and chugging down the rest of his coffee. Time waits for no tired, overworked nurse and report is about to start.

-

Slow shifts in A&E of major metropolitan hospitals are rare mythical beasts. They’re like unicorns - every nurse has heard the tales but rarely seen the proof, and tonight is no exception. He and Phil are off on their own assignments the moment shift change is over, dealing with a constantly growing list of patients in need of urgent care.

Well, most of the cases aren’t actually all that urgent, but it’s not like doctor’s offices and clinics are open in the middle of the night, so everyone in Manchester with a sick baby or an itchy crotch ends up here, where Dan and his co-workers have to triage and prep them to be seen by the tiny handful of resentful doctors staffing accident and emergency. 

He walks a lot of nervous people cradling various limbs to and from radiology. He takes vitals and doles out low dose painkillers and draws vial after vial of blood. He’s busy but the work is easy enough. It’s all stuff he’s done so many times he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore.

A few hours into his shift he’s tasked with gluing a drunk teenager’s split forehead back together and starting an IV of fluids so the kid doesn’t die of dehydration. Normally for cases like this they’d have to break out the stomach pump, but apparently he’s been throwing up in the waiting room for at least two hours already, so at least that lovely job won’t be necessary. 

Dan pages neuro to check for concussion and finds the bloke a bed upstairs. Once the lad has laid down he quickly falls asleep, which means Dan avoids getting sicked on and gets to finish the job of cleaning the wound and gluing it back together in peace. 

It does bring back a few sharply unpleasant memories though, thoughts that have him sneaking away afterwards to find Phil and drag him outside for a quick break. They sit close to each other on the bench and share a packet of crisps as raindrops fall and ambulance sirens wail in the distance. 

Phil crinkles his nose a few times but doesn’t voice his distaste for the smell of cigarette smoke that lingers out here day and night. Dan breathes it in nice and deep. He enjoys the smell but has no desire to do the actual smoking, and he can’t pretend it doesn’t make him laugh to see how vehemently Phil hates it. Kath had done a number on him on the topic of smoking, that’s for sure.

“Bloody rain,” Phil mutters, and a shiver runs through him.

Dan moves a little closer and presses their arms together. He’d like to go the extra mile and drape his arms over Phil’s shoulders, but he’s not quite there yet. There’s an older nurse sat a few benches down, and though Dan’s sure she couldn’t be less bothered, her presence still feels like a barrier between him and Phil. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I wish we were at home doing something stupid and fun.”

Phil steals the crisps out of Dan’s hand and lays his head down on Dan’s shoulder. “Me too.”

-

His first foreign object of the night comes in at about midnight in the form of a surprisingly cheerful little boy and his harried mother.

“He keeps grabbing at his ear,” she says, clutching him on her lap and refusing to let him down no matter how he squirms. 

Dan hasn’t seen any evidence of grabbing, but he nods along and doesn’t argue. If anything the kid is bored. Dan gives him a tongue depressor to play with when he starts pulling on his mum’s hair.

“I swear he was upset earlier. He seems fine now but I know there’s something wrong. He woke up crying.”

“When did you notice the grabbing?” Dan asks.

Her face falls. “After dinner. I gave him some medicine and put him to bed early.” She looks down at her son and strokes the hair off his little forehead. “I thought he’d be fine after a good night’s sleep.” The distress in her voice is one he’s come to know well, a symptom of ‘mum guilt’ it’s been explained to him by his coworkers with children. 

Dan gives her a reassuring smile and pats the boy on the knee. “I’m sure he’s fine, yeah? Shall we have a look?”

She looks close to tears, but she smiles back and laughs at herself, nodding. 

“You can just keep him right there and hold him tight for me, ok mum?”

She nods again, leaning down to coo at him while Dan fetches an otoscope. He grabs it off its spot on the wall and wheels his chair back over, crouching a little to meet the boy’s eyeline. 

“Hey little man, I’m going to look in your ear now, ok? Let’s show mummy how brave you are.”

“Ok,” he says quietly.

Dan grins at him. “Good man. Alright, stay very still for me. Like a statue.” He asks the mum what ear it is and she points and the kid actually lets him look without making a fuss. 

It takes about two seconds to determine that she was right, there’s definitely something in there. He tells her so and her face falls again. 

“Oh god.”

He rolls over to the desk to grab a small pair of forceps. “Trust me, we’re gonna fix him right up. When I was his age I snorted a bead up my nose and I was perfectly fine. I pull way weirder stuff out of people every day.”

She laughs. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“You definitely don’t,” Dan confirms, then turns his attention to the boy again. “Hey buddy, can you be a statue again?”

-

He finds Phil in one of the supply rooms in between patients. “Foreign object,” he says. Not even a hello first.

“Ooh.” Phil’s face lights up in excitement. He’s got an intubation kit in his hand and is clearly busy, but he doesn’t hesitate to indulge Dan in one of their favourite guessing games. “Sexual or no?”

“Definitely no.”

“Kid?”

Dan nods. “Cute kid.”

“Aww, yay. So nose or ear, yeah?”

“Ear,” Dan confirms.

“Hmm.” Phil’s tongue pokes out from between his teeth as it always does when he’s thinking. “Food?”

Dan deflates a little. “What the fuck? How do you always know?”

“Psychic, remember?”

“Ugh, whatever. Still gotta guess what _kind_ of food.”

“Vegetable?” Phil asks, his grin getting wider by the second.

“Um… technically no? I think it’s a grain.”

Phil frowns as he studies Dan’s face. And then, “Corn.”

“Goddamnit,” Dan mutters. “I gave you too many hints.”

“Nope, I’m just that clever.” Phil steps closer, right in Dan’s space and kisses him right on the mouth. “I gotta go. We’ve got a collision coming in.”

“Oh fuck,” Dan says, waving Phil out the door. “Go go.”

“Hopefully I’ll have a story for you later,” Phil says, and then his long legs are carrying him away.

Dan’s heart is pounding. Phil just kissed him. At work. There’s no way anyone saw, but still. He’s never done that before.

His fingers drift up and brush his lip like he’ll be able to feel some kind of mark left behind to prove he hadn’t just imagined it. They’re really going for this _living out_ thing, then, and Phil is doing way better than Dan. 

Even though it was Dan’s idea.

He grabs a box of gloves and pulls himself together so it doesn’t look like he was up to something. He’s got work to do. He’s always got work to do.

-

Three patients come in from the same collision. Dan is assigned to a middle aged woman laid out on her stretcher with an inordinate amount of gauze wrapped around her head that doesn’t seem to be doing much to stem the flow of blood. She’s conscious though, and she tells Dan her name when he asks. 

There’s a paramedic running through the woman’s vitals and the information they were able to gather in the hospital on the way over, which frankly isn’t much. One car hit another, and she was in the passenger seat, the side of the car that didn’t take the impact. Dan hates to imagine what the driver looks like.

She’s in bad shape, there’s no doubt about it, but she’s conscious and lucid and still has all her limbs attached. Dan asks her where it hurts and she says, “Everywhere.” One of her eyes is black and blue and swollen shut. 

He retakes her vitals in the lift on the way up to CT. Her pulse is racing and her blood pressure is high, but she’s stable enough for now. Once they make sure she isn’t bleeding into her brain he can focus on the rest. Or at least assist. Doctors tend to be a lot quicker to respond to pages for patients who could, in theory, die at any moment. 

Turns out this woman definitely isn’t going to die. She has a concussion and a deep gash in the back of her head and two broken ribs and bruises pretty much everywhere, but her brain isn’t bleeding and according to her ultrasound she’s not bleeding in her abdomen either. 

She got lucky, but Dan hopes none of the doctors or nurses attending to her actually say those words to her. He can tell that she sure as hell isn't feeling lucky tonight. She keeps asking about her son, the one who was actually driving the car. The one who would’ve taken the full impact of the car who hit them. 

Dan doesn’t have an answer for her, but he can imagine that if he did, it wouldn’t be a good one. It’s not the first time he’s glad that breaking bad news isn’t in his job description, and it won’t be the last. That’s one of the things for which doctors are paid their exorbitant salaries.

This woman’s injuries are far from the worst Dan has ever seen, and he’s no stranger to the toll that trauma like this takes, both for the patients and for the staff tasked with trying to put them back together. 

But it’s still a drain. He’s physically and emotionally drained by the time his shift comes to an end. He hasn’t so much as sat down in hours. His scrubs are splotched with blood and his back is aching and he can still hear her voice in his head, begging to be allowed to see her son. Dan had checked for her, but the bloke had still been in surgery, still in critical condition as far as Dan could gather. It felt like shit to walk away without being able to offer her any kind of reassurance. 

He also hasn’t seen Phil in hours, which isn’t unusual while they’re working, but still isn’t pleasant, especially after a night like tonight. Dan finally sees him again when they’re giving report to the day shift, and his heart sinks to see Phil looking nothing like he had when he’d kissed him in the supply closet.

His scrubs are also bloody, but he’s not looking at Dan’s face. He’s looking down at his trainers, and he heads for the locker room the moment the head nurse dismisses them. He doesn’t even wait for Dan.

Dan doesn’t ask him what’s wrong until they’ve changed into their regular clothes and walked out to the car. Phil is usually better at dealing with this stuff than Dan is, so it’s more than a little alarming that Phil slumps his head against the window and cries as soon as he’s shut his door.

Dan starts the car and turns on the heat. The wipers are still going from before, and they make a soothing kind of white noise in the background as Dan leans over and puts a hand on Phil’s thigh. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Phil wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket and shakes his head. “At home.”

Dan doesn’t say anything, but he leans over a little further and kisses Phil’s temple none too gently. Seeing Phil in pain is the thing he hates most in this world, without a doubt, and not being able to do anything about it feels like salt in the wound.

“I’m alright,” Phil says. “Just wanna go home.”

Dan puts in the single CD they keep in the car, a relic of their early days, made by Phil for Dan on their first Valentine’s day. Even back then it had been a bit of an outdated way to listen to music, but Dan’s never gotten a gift he’s cherished more. 

Dan drives a little faster than he should, but Phil doesn’t fuss about it the way he normally would. They make it home in no time, listening to ‘90s pop and indie rock, Dan’s hand on Phil’s thigh the whole way.

They hold hands in the lift on the way up to their flat. Dan can smell hospital on himself and he hates it a little extra this morning. 

He turns his head to look at Phil. “Should we have a shower?” 

Phil lays his head on Dan’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

They make it a hot one, taking turns washing each other’s hair and backs. They stay stood under the spray longer than they need to, long after the practical aspects of showering have been taken care of. Dan hugs Phil’s waist from behind and doesn’t say anything. He knows if Phil wants to talk, he will. 

Dan gets it. He understands that sometimes it just gets to you, no matter how many horrors you’ve seen, how many traumas you’ve had to face head on. You build up a certain tolerance, but sometimes the feelings slip through. Dan’s got cases that still haunt him to this day. He reckons anyone who holds life and death in their hands must feel the weight of that responsibility at least a little. 

They don’t bother getting dressed before climbing into bed, and Phil doesn’t bother with talking. As soon as Dan’s laid down Phil gets on top of him, fitting himself between Dan’s legs and pressing their mouths together. It’s slow and deep and controlled but Dan can tell it’s a prelude to something more. Of course he could tell Phil if he wasn’t up for it, but sometimes talking isn’t what they need after a bad day. Sometimes it’s distraction in the form of physical pleasure that works best.

They don’t rush it. The kissing is as important as whatever comes after, and they do that for a long time, Dan’s hands stroking up and down Phil’s back and squeezing when they slip down lower. Phil rolls his hips into Dan’s so they can feel proof of what they do to each other - _for_ each other - even when the world outside their little bubble of togetherness feels scary and dark. 

Eventually Phil reaches down to touch Dan, to rub and tug and stroke a finger over clean sensitive skin. Dan twists away and reaches over into the bedside drawer for lube and a condom. Phil takes the lube and Dan takes the condom and they get each other ready, because even the most perfunctory of foreplay doesn’t necessarily have to feel that way. 

Dan rolls the latex down over Phil’s hardness and Phil opens Dan up a little with a slick finger. Phil drops his head down onto Dan’s shoulder as he pushes inside slowly, but as soon as Dan has adjusted and the slide in and out is easy, Phil finds Dan’s mouth again. 

Dan wraps his legs around Phil’s waist and all he has to do is kiss Phil back and angle himself to where it feels best. Maybe they’ll laugh later about the fact that Phil is doing all the work this time, but right now it’s just good. It’s connection and comfort and happiness and everything they so needed it to be.

They don’t switch up the position. They stay just like that until Phil is telling Dan he’s about to come. Dan tells him to do it and holds him tightly through the shuddering of his orgasm. It doesn’t take long afterwards for Phil to get Dan off with a clever hand and lips on his neck. 

Phil clings to Dan when it’s all over, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Dan wants to respect that Phil may not want to talk, but the concern is just too overwhelming. 

“Tell me about it,” Dan says softly, fingers combing through Phil’s still slightly damp fringe.

Phil is quiet a long time before he answers. “He looked like you.”

Dan tightens his grip on Phil. His heart twists painfully for this man he loves so much and the fact that there’s only so much he can do to protect him from life’s hardships. 

“I’m here,” Dan says. “I’m ok.”

“But one day you might not be.”

He bites his tongue. Empty promises won’t do any good here. Phil’s words are true, no matter how much Dan would like to assure him they aren’t.

“Maybe,” Dan says, pressing a kiss to Phil’s forehead. “But that’s not today.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to mandy and zan for reading this over for me <3


End file.
